


Five-Letter Word

by ImmortalError



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Vignette, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 13:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14545593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalError/pseuds/ImmortalError
Summary: Hydra's weapon tries to remember the man on the bridge.





	Five-Letter Word

"Bucky?"

The word had caused something to stir within the solider' chest. It hadn't been a spark, no, it had been something else. Thievery. The soldier felt winded, as if his breaths had been ripped straight from his lungs.

_"Who the hell is Bucky?"_

The word tasted different to the solider. It was different to everything else that had ever left his mouth. It had lingered there after he said it, hanging in the air like a thick smog. It had felt painful and tasted bitter. It was as if, for a split second, the solider was someone else. There was something in those five letters, something in the tone they'd been spoken in, something foreign. The solider had heard single words spat at him before, most of which had been drilled into his brain. Most of which, were followed by an immense amount of pain and torture. But this. This single word had been different. It had been spoken, not stated. Inquired, not demanded. Curious, not devious. But most importantly it'd been genuine. The blond who he'd been fighting seconds prior was suddenly shell-shocked, his eyes were alive with emotion. Emotion which the solider failed to recount. Something weak, something crippling. An emotion of caring and pure concern. Something rare, uncommon, real.

An anger flooded his veins and before he knew it, he was trying to shoot again. He was told that's what soldiers did. Those who didn't weren't worthy of the title. But he was. He was a soldier, he wouldn't let a five-letter word ruin his reputation. So, he tried to take the shot, only to have the target pushed aside. That, there, had been his first missed opportunity. He froze. He froze because he'd missed the shot. _He didn't miss shots._ Everything from there was a blur. An explosion, plumes of smoke, raging fire, shouts and screams. Sounds the solider was familiar with, comfortable with. Yet this time, the sounds were tainted with the lingering remains of that five-letter word.

_Bucky._

Had it meant something to him? What was its significance? The soldier had never heard the word before so, what had it meant? The soldier had questions. All of which circled his head. The questions didn't end, they were interrupted by other questions. They all related back to that five-letter word.

He would have to ask. But the solider was conflicted. He knew he couldn't simply ask for an explanation from the ones who'd initiated the order. They had their reasons and he was the one to wield the weapon for them. But who was his target? The blond with the shield, why him? Why had he looked so weak, so vulnerable when he'd said the word? And most importantly, what was the word's significance?

 _Bucky_.

It was barely a name. It had to stand for something, it had to have meaning. The solider was good at reading situations. At least he thought he had been. He'd have to be. He could survive the most dangerous situation by analysing every fraction of it. Yet, the solider had analysed every fraction of the blond's expression and couldn't figure out why he'd looked so sad.

So, when the initiators sat before him and asked for a mission report, a word wouldn't leave his mouth. He was frozen in time, his head rushing with words, yet his tongue was dry. The solider barely picked up the second time he was asked for the report. Until he was struck in the face. Then the right wheels began turning and his speech was suddenly operational. But, he couldn't control what came out his mouth, sentences like a runaway train.  
"The man on the bridge... who was he?" The solider saw those sad eyes again. The fear and disbelief. He was the soldier’s target. The initiators must've chosen him for a reason.  
"You met him earlier this week on another assignment."  
"I knew him." An instantaneous response. Not one he'd considered. Had he known the blond who had said the word? He became increasingly conscious of the initiators' responses. The grave concern on his face, the odd niceness.

"Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped this century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we're gonna give it a push. But if you don't do your part, I can't do mine, and HYDRA can't give the world the freedom it deserves."  
This was the best report the solider had ever gotten. Yet it was riddled with something ominous. Something dark.  
"But I knew him." Words were still escaping his mouth. Then the initiator turned around to the men in the white coats. The men who barely said anything yet inflected the most distress.  
"Prep him." Denial struck the soldier’s heart. He knew what it meant.  
"He's been out of cryo-freeze too long."  
One of the men in the white coats spoke, his voice different to the initiator's. It wasn't as gruff or grave, it was a strange tone of denial.

"Then wipe him and start over."

Before the solider could respond he was being strapped to the chair. His limbs becoming useless, his emotions becoming pointless. A man in white held a teeth shield before him, the solider bit down on it. He knew the drill, despite how hesitant he was. Normally, he didn't resist. But this was different. Everything inside him screamed no, his teeth denting the teeth shield. He knew he'd surface remembering nothing, he knew he'd surface blank. He was the weapon after all. And weapons didn't have memories, let alone names. _Bucky was no name for a weapon._

Machinery whirled and clicked behind him, the solider braced himself. The word repeated over and over in his head. _Bucky. Bucky. Bucky._ What did it mean? He felt the pain flow through his veins. _Bucky. Bucky. Bucky._ Who the hell was Bucky? He felt his vocal cords scream. _Bucky. Bucky. Bucky._ Then, out of nowhere, a different word. This one, six letters, the solider felt a wave of fondness. Pieces falling into place. 

 

 _Rogers_.

 

He smiled and then, with a scream, it was all gone.


End file.
